


Sergeant Snuggle-Bug

by Venusdoom3



Series: Prompt Fics [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Chemical Weapons, Healing Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Protective Steve Rogers, Rated Explicit for future chapters, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers-centric, touch starved bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11832069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venusdoom3/pseuds/Venusdoom3
Summary: “Don’t let go.” Bucky’s voice is uncharacteristically frantic as he clutches my other hand, and I attempt an encouraging smile when my insides are being ripped apart from seeing James Buchanan Barnes, the strongest, bravest human being I’ve ever met and then some, behaving this way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoSidesOfAMirror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoSidesOfAMirror/gifts).



"Get him inside!" I yell, on the edge of panic, and Clint gives me a dry look over Bucky's writhing form, strapped to the gurney between us.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing, Cap?"

I can't even muster a snappy comeback; I'm too distracted by the agony on my best friend's face. Bucky's eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth pulled into a grimace of pain, and the way he clutches himself, it looks like he's trying to bear hug himself to death. "You're gonna be okay, pal," I say as we wheel him down the Quinjet's ramp and onto the cement floor of the hangar adjacent to the Avengers facility. It's only a minute before we're carting Bucky off the cargo elevator and into the great room shared by the team.

“What do we do?” I holler, and Bruce, who was already walking toward us, runs the rest of the way from the kitchenette.

“What are his symptoms?” Bruce asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose and hunkering down next to Bucky.

“He’s in pain!” I bark. “It’s so bad he can’t even talk, and Bucky can take a lot of pain before he shows it.”

“Let’s get him onto the couch,” Clint suggests, and Bruce nods after a moment.

“If he has no spinal injury, I see no reason we can’t move him. Steve, you’re the strongest; grab his shoulders,” Bruce says. “Clint and I will get his legs.”

Bucky curls inward like a snail sprinkled with salt, moaning gutturally, and I waste no time sliding my forearms under him, bringing my face close to his.

“I got ya, buddy,” I murmur, watching the lines etched into his face smooth away, presumably as what I’m saying registers.

“Steve?”

We lift him effortlessly from the gurney to the couch, and Clint heads off to return the gurney to the jet while Bruce and I kneel on the floor next to Bucky. As I pull my arms out from under him, Bucky lets out a sharp cry, his face crumpling in pain again.

“Buck?” I ask, helpless, balling my hands into fists on my thighs as I watch the person I care most about in the world suffer. “What can I do?”

Bucky doesn’t answer except for a string of dry sobs.

“James, I’m just going to take your pulse, okay?” Bruce’s voice is always soothing, but he sounds almost as if he might be lulling a baby to sleep. He picks up Bucky’s hand and turns it over, pressing his first two fingers against the pulse point on Bucky’s wrist, and it’s as if someone flipped a switch: Bucky quiets immediately, subsiding against the couch, his agonized spasms ceasing.

Bruce frowns in concentration, watching the wall clock as he counts Bucky’s heartbeats. “That’s interesting,” he says after a minute.

“What? What’s interesting?” I’m on the edge of panic again. “Is something wrong with his heart?”

“No, no.” Bruce shakes his head, placing Bucky’s hand on his chest and holding his own atop it for a moment. “I’m going to try something. Watch him.”

Slowly, Bruce lifts his hand away from Bucky’s; the second Bruce no longer touches him, Bucky cries out as if being pierced with invisible blades. Tears leak from beneath his long, dark lashes, and wetness wells in my own eyes in response.

“Now look.” Bruce grips Bucky’s wrist again, and Bucky subsides.

My mouth falls open. “What—”

Bruce removes his hand again, and Bucky tenses, a grunt seeping from between his clenched teeth. “Jesus Christ,” Bruce mutters. “Physical contact.”

“Is that – how does—” I frown, wracking my brain, trying to understand what this means.

“Tell me exactly what happened at the HYDRA warehouse,” Bruce says, his normally soft brown eyes piercing as he focuses on me.

“The three of us split up,” I explain, instinctively resting my hand on Bucky’s arm, which seems to relieve his pain just as well as Bruce’s touch had. “Clint took the ground floor while I took the second, and Bucky went to the basement. We were just about to clear the building when Bucky started coughing and screaming and gagging.” I shudder at the memory. “We found him convulsing on the floor at the foot of the stairs. He stepped on something like a land mine down there, only instead of exploding – thank God – it released some kind of gas that he breathed in, and he’s been in agony ever since.”

“Gas,” Bruce mused, rising to his feet and removing his glasses to polish them on the front of his shirt. “All right. You get him to his quarters. I’m going to grab an oxygen tank and meet you there. Once he’s comfortable, I’ll consult with Tony.” He heads toward the stairs, pausing to turn around at the door. “Get his tac jacket and shirt off,” he says, and my eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling. “I want to test it for molecules of the gas. Identifying the chemical agent will help us to diagnose James and – I hope – come up with a treatment.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” I call after him, but he’s already trotting down the stairs.

“Steve,” Bucky croaks, and I turn back to him, my hand tightening on his arm.

“Hey, Buck. You okay?”

Bucky sighs, nodding. The pain lines have once again vacated his handsome face, leaving only weariness in their wake. “I feel like I’ve just gone through surgery. What the hell is wrong with me?”

“It has something to do with the gas you breathed in.” I rise to my feet, guiding him into a sitting position without releasing his arm. “Bruce is gonna get some oxygen into you, and then he and Tony are going to try and figure out what you inhaled and how to fix this. In the meantime, come on; let’s get you to your room. He needs your shirt and your jacket to test for particles or something, and you need to rest.”

“Don’t let go.” Bucky’s voice is uncharacteristically frantic as he clutches my other hand, and I attempt an encouraging smile when my insides are being ripped apart from seeing James Buchanan Barnes, the strongest, bravest human being I’ve ever met and then some, behaving this way.

I help him to his feet and slip an arm around his waist, resting my other hand on his stomach as I turn him toward the hall leading to the team’s various living quarters. “I won’t, pal. I got you.”

When Bruce joins us in Bucky’s room, I’m sitting with my back against the headboard of his bed, and Bucky is shirtless in his black tactical pants, stretched out next to me with his head pillowed on my thigh and his arms wrapped around it, clinging for dear life. I’m still dressed for the mission, too, but I’ve peeled off the top half, leaving myself in a tank top, heavy uniform pants, and boots. It’s hotter than hell, and I can feel sweat forming in my hair and drizzling down my temples, but I’m not about to move and risk causing Bucky pain. He’s finally comfortable, his eyelids growing heavy as he watches the flat screen TV on the wall at the foot of his bed, engrossed in the Netflix documentary about dolphins I put on.

“You look extremely uncomfortable.” Bruce quirks a smile at me, rounding the bed with the portable oxygen tank and perching on the edge of the mattress.

“A little sweaty, but I’ll live.”

“I’m going to put this mask on you, James.” Bruce waits for Bucky’s nod before slipping the elastic strap over Bucky’s head, tucking it beneath his ponytail. “Just breathe,” Bruce instructs him, “and you can sleep if you want to.”

Bucky’s crystal blue eyes jump to my face, and I smooth some loose hairs off his forehead. “I'm staying right here. I'm not going to let you hurt like that, okay?”

He blinks, trust and gratitude evident in his eyes, before he lets them slip closed.

**

“It’s not funny, Nat,” I snap, exasperated, but Nat only snickers, waving me off.

“Oh, come on.” She raises one perfectly shaped auburn eyebrow. “it’s _kind of_ funny. The Winter Soldier has transformed into the Cuddle Monster.”

“Har har,” Bucky grouses from his spot on the couch, where Sam scrolls idly through his Facebook feed, one arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. After several hours of not being able to function without being in constant physical contact with someone, he's clearly over being teased about it. Tony and Nat are the main offenders; everybody else has been surprisingly sensitive about the whole thing, even Sam, who usually has a gibe war running with Bucky at any given time.

"Has there been any communication with the lab?" Vision asks, curled up with Wanda in a large armchair.

I give an impatient shake of my head just as Pepper appears at the top of the stairs. "They're making some progress," she reports, perching on the arm of the couch next to Bucky. "They've identified the chemical composition of the gas, but they aren't sure yet how it's affected you this way or how to reverse it."

"Thanks," Bucky murmurs, and she takes his hand. Shooing Sam aside, Pepper takes his place, wrapping her arms around Bucky and guiding him to rest his head on her shoulder.

"You'll be fine." Pepper strokes Bucky's hair, and he nestles in closer, his eyes slipping shut. A weird twinge of something akin to jealousy zings up my spine. "Now, the boys in the lab are famished, and I'm sure everybody up here is, too. Who's ready to order?"

"Me! Me!" Tony's voice floats up the stairs just ahead of him, and Bruce trails not far behind. "I'm thinking something simple and quick, like French continental." When he notices Pepper holding Bucky, he skids to a stop, his mouth hanging open. "What the fff..." He checks himself at the last second. "Uh, Pep, how about showing me some of that lovin' instead of giving it all to Sergeant Snuggle-Bug over there?"

"She gives amazing hugs," Bucky mumbles. Tony's eyes flash at that, and I take the opportunity to step in. The last thing we need is bad blood between Tony and Bucky, who have just barely started forging a fragile bond.

Besides, I think, petulant despite myself, it's my turn.

"Hey, Buck. C'mere." I take his hand, and he lets me pull him to his feet.

"What?"

"Why don't we go for a walk?" Fear slides like a mask over Bucky's face, and I smile to reassure him, lacing my fingers with those of his flesh hand.

"Okay." Bucky squeezes my hand, and allows me to lead him toward the stairs.

"Text me when there's food," I call over my shoulder.

**

Very little has buoyed my spirits over the past few years like strolling through the facility's grounds, over mild green slopes and plateaus beneath a sky painted orange and pink by the setting sun, while holding Bucky's hand in mine.

**

After our late dinner, which was spent with Bucky sandwiched between myself and Clint Barton with barely enough elbow room for any of us to feed ourselves effectively, the decision is made – strongly influenced by my input, but backed by Bucky himself – that I will spend the night with Bucky. Tony refers to it as "taking the night shift," but I wither him with a glare. The last thing I want Bucky to think is that spending time with him, particularly touching him, is a chore; for me, it's anything but.

Once we get past the decidedly awkward few moments while we take turns standing outside the door, holding hands, so we can each use the bathroom, he and I link arms and brush our teeth together, laughing at ourselves in the vanity mirror as we mug at each other while foaming at the mouth like rabid animals. I undress to my skivvies and help Bucky do the same, ensuring at least my hands are on him at all times, and we climb into his bed from the same side, lying shoulder to shoulder and hand in hand beneath the blankets.

"Hey, Steve?" Bucky's whisper hovers like a lightning bug in the near darkness of his bedroom. Rousing myself from my rosy memories, in which he and I slept in a creaky double bed in a run-down Brooklyn apartment, I hum in response, soaking in the heat of Bucky's flesh arm pressed against mine. "Thank you."

I roll onto my side facing him, resting my hand on his forearm because I don't dare put it anywhere else. "You don't have to thank me."

"I know." Bucky turns on his side, putting his back against my chest and nudging backward until we fit together like spoons in a drawer, like we used to during the winter when our place was terribly drafty and I was always seemingly two sneezes short of death. "But thank you anyway. You always have my back." Slipping my arm around his waist, I rest my hand in a loose fist at his sternum, wishing I could tell him I want much more than just his back.

**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We've come up with a counteractant for the chemical agent affecting Sergeant Barnes," Bruce says. Inexplicably, he's blushing.
> 
> Tony, meanwhile, wears a grin like the proverbial cat who ate the canary, making me immediately suspicious. "We sure did. Wait till you—" He glances at Bucky with a leer. "—get a load of this."

Bucky awakens first, squirming a little, and it takes me a few moments of half-sleep to understand why his movements feel so damn good: his firm, round ass is pressed tightly against my pelvis, grinding inadvertently against my raging morning stiffy with every movement. After another few sleep-drunk moments spent enjoying the sensation, I snap fully awake, vaguely panicked when I realize what's happening, but despite the new angles my lap has grown, Bucky doesn't seem in any rush to separate. In fact, he takes my hand and pulls my arm tighter around him, leaving my face all but pressed into the back of his neck.

He smells amazing, and it does nothing to lessen the intensity of my arousal.

 _Dammit_.

"Morning," Bucky mumbles, his voice rough with sleep and unbearably sexy. "You're a lot warmer than you used to be."

I manage a mostly normal-sounding chuckle, biting back a whimper when he wiggles again. _Does he know what he's doing?_ I wonder, chewing on my lower lip. I can't imagine how he doesn't realize what's digging into his delectable ass cheek. He's a worldly guy – a far sight more so than I ever was, as far as these matters go.

Instead of addressing it, however, Bucky says, "I seriously need a shower."

That brings a whole new set of problems to the forefront of my mind. Every shower in the place is encased in a large, glass-walled stall, so I can't sit outside and keep one hand on his leg or arm while he showers. I'll have to be in there with him to keep him from collapsing in agony.

In the shower.

_With Bucky._

I should refuse, beg out, ask someone with less invested to take over from here, but instead, I respond, "We can work that out."

 _Fuck_.

That's how I find myself, several minutes later, standing naked in the steamy shower stall behind Bucky, my hands resting on his waist as he shampoos his hair with obvious relief. His sighs of pleasure do not help the situation. As it is, I'm forcing myself to think about dead puppies to keep myself from springing the most inappropriate erection of all time, and it's really hard to keep my mind on the topic of dead puppies when directly in front of me, the muscles in Bucky's back flex with every movement he makes, and that ass, dear Lord...

 _This would be a hell of a lot easier if you'd told him eighty-five years ago that you were in love with him_ , I chastise myself, closing my eyes for a beat. When I open them, Bucky's long, dark hair sits in a foamy beehive atop his head, and I smile, shaking my head.

"That's cute. You should wear it like that more often."

"You should've told me you switched careers, Mr. Comedian," Bucky says with a snort, turning in my hands to face me.

_Don't look down. Don't look down. For the love of God, don't look down._

"Let me just rinse this out, and then you can have your hands back." He grins, backing into the stream of water cascading from the waterfall showerhead – one of my favorite inventions of the future, more commonly known as the present – and tipping his head back to allow the water to sluice the shampoo from his hair. He could have descended straight from Olympus, all carved muscle and smooth skin, and the bliss on his face as he stands under the water with his eyes closed makes me wonder what else might prompt that look.

_Dead puppies! Mountains of dead puppies!_

After a long moment of silence, I open my eyes to find Bucky watching me expectantly, and my face warms. "What're you doing?"

"Just, um..." I swallow, my eyes sliding off to the side, because if I stare into those clear, silver-blue eyes any longer, any illusion I may have of control will evaporate into the shower steam. "I'm – uh, I'm still tired. That's all."

Bucky nods slowly – I catch it in my peripheral vision – and turns us both until I'm under the shower stream, then maneuvers me to face away from him. "Okay, you wash now," he says, resting his hands on my hips. He's so close I can feel his warm breath against the back of my neck, and he steps closer still as I scrub my short blond hair with shampoo, all but adhering himself to my back.

"Uh. Buck?" My voice comes out nearly an octave too high.

"Mm-hmm." His lips vibrate against my shoulder. Well, there go the last of the dead puppies. All I can envision now is this exact moment: Bucky's lean, naked, sinfully wet body pressed against my back, his gorgeous mouth touching my skin... "I feel so much better like this," he murmurs, his hands moving from my hips to my stomach, holding me tight against him, and whoops, there's the inappropriate erection I've been trying to ward off. I can only hope he won't notice.

"Uh. Hmm. Yeah, good, good." I clear my throat. "Maybe we should, um. Y'know. Check in with the Bobbsey Twins, see if they've come up with anything."

"Yeah." It must be my imagination; there's no logical explanation for the note of disappointment in Bucky's voice. "Okay. Let's wash up quick."

We do, each scrubbing himself down with haste, Bucky's foot resting atop mine. As we're stepping out of the shower, he breaks our contact for only a second, attempting to wrap a towel around his waist, but he immediately doubles over with a strangled cry like he's been punched in the gut.

"Bucky!" I grab his shoulders, helping him upright, my heart pounding in my throat. He's panting and shaking, and when he opens his eyes, tears well up in them and spill over his lower lashes.

"I'm sorry," he chokes. "I can't... it's—"

"Don't be sorry." I gather him into my arms and cradle his head against my shoulder, heedless now of our mutual nakedness, concerned only with his well-being. "I'm here. I got you."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, punk," he mumbles, both hands clutching my back, one hot skin, the other cool metal. "Prob'ly die."

"Not funny."

He lifts his head and gives me a strange little smile. "Not tryin' to be funny."

**

We're up before anyone else, so I start cooking a mountain of breakfast for everyone, consisting of dozens and dozens of fluffy pancakes and several pounds of bacon, grateful for the removable restaurant-sized stovetop griddle Tony had the foresight to install in the facility's shared kitchen. Bucky hovers within my bubble of personal space, helping out when he can, clinging to my back with his arms around my waist when he can't.

I could get used to this.

Wanda appears next, still in the t-shirt and boxer shorts she wears for pajamas, and absconds to the couch with Bucky while I finish cooking breakfast for our cozy little battalion. Stealing glances over my shoulder, I can't help grinning at the sight of Bucky sitting patiently on the floor in front of the couch with Wanda sitting behind him, her bare legs bracing him on either side, alternately brushing and braiding his dark, shoulder-length hair. By the time breakfast is ready and everybody's awake, Bucky sports a unique and rather fetching hairstyle consisting of a small braid on either side of his head, pulled back along with the top half of his hair and ponytailed at the crown of his head, leaving the lower half loose.

"I like it," I murmur into his ear as I take over for Wanda, sitting next to him at the table with my hand on his thigh. He shoots me a grin, nudging me with his elbow, and I barely restrain myself from leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, instead busying myself by filling our plates with pancakes and bacon.

Tony and Bruce join us for breakfast, surfacing from the lab, where they had resumed their research around five in the morning. Thor shows up during the meal and joyously throws down a mammoth stack of pancakes while we update him on Bucky's situation. After we've all eaten, Bruce pulls me aside, leaving Thor to whisk Bucky off to the couch, actually cradling my bewildered best friend in his lap, and regale him with tales of Asgardian current events.

"We know what caused the reaction James is having," Bruce says in a low voice, not that he could be heard over Thor's booming voice, anyway. "What he breathed in was a psychoactive nerve agent—"

"A mind altering poisonous gas," Tony jumps in, "that attacked his central nervous system."

"Like Sarin?" I ask, alarmed; rumors of the lethal gas had swirled through the troops during the war, although its use as a weapon didn't begin until after I ended up in the ice, according to the history books I've read.

"Somewhat," Bruce agrees, "but its inhalation is apparently not fatal."

"Apparently," I mutter, scrubbing my face with my hands.

"It seems to inhibit acetylcholinesterase, which breaks down acetylcholine," Bruce continues, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "That's what generally gives muscles the signal to contract. Without it, James's muscles can't relax, although bodily contact seems to lessen the effect."

"We aren't sure why," Tony says, scratching his head.

"We're working on coming up with a countermeasure," Bruce says, "but in the meantime, let's just keep somebody with him at all times to avoid negative stimuli, whether psychogenic or neuropathic."

"To keep him out of pain," I guess, and both of them nod. "Okay, thank you, guys. Whatever you can come up with is worth a shot."

**

It's mid-afternoon by the time our resident geniuses resurface, summoning everyone to the great room again. Bucky is playing chess with Vision, who holds his hand across the table without batting an artificially organic eye.

"We've come up with a counteractant for the chemical agent affecting Sergeant Barnes," Bruce says. Inexplicably, he's blushing.

Tony, meanwhile, wears a grin like the proverbial cat who ate the canary, making me immediately suspicious. "We sure did. Wait till you—" He glances at Bucky with a leer. "—get a load of this."

My hackles are up already, and I move to Bucky's side, resting a hand on the back of his neck. "Well, what is it?"

"Because of the nature of the chemical weapon, we need to combat it with the introduction of organic agents, including phosphorylcholine, prostaglandins, acid phosphatase, and proteolytic enzymes," Bruce says, rattling these scientific nonsense words off like he's reciting his ABC's. "These will allow him to create antibodies to fight the chemical agent and allow its molecules to be located with x-ray crystallography and expelled via controlled laser radiation, but we'll worry about that part in a few days. In the meantime—"

"Where do we obtain these organic agents?" Thor speaks up, sitting forward on the couch.

Bruce's face is now the same hue as a perfectly ripe tomato. "The only readily available substance that contains all of them and that would be easily administered is, ah – human male ejaculate."

After a beat of stunned silence, Nat lets out a low whistle. "Awkward."

"I can see the porn title now," Tony says, gleeful. " _Barnes Gets Barebacked!"_

My fist clenches involuntarily. If not for my instinct to protect Bucky causing me to remain at his side with my hand on his neck, I would happily stride across the room and deliver an uppercut that might literally take Tony's head off. Free to continue being the cocky asshole he is, Tony holds up both hands and cackles, "Not it!"

"I'm ruled out, also," Bruce adds. "James, I apologize. I'd be willing to help if I could, but there's no way to be sure your enhanced metabolism would prevent gamma poisoning. Thor, you're out of the running, too, since you're not, biologically speaking, strictly human."

"Then I am also excluded," Vision says. "As a synthetically produced android, that is."

"Don't look at me," Clint says, taking a step back, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm married."

"Nope." Sam, perched on a stool at the kitchenette counter, goes back to his crossword puzzle. "Just nope."

Bruce sighs. "As for Scott, since he went subatomic, his levels on every test have been out of whack, and Peter's underage and not here to speak for himself besides."

"And Rhodey still has no feeling below the waist," Pepper murmurs, "so he's out."

"That leaves you, Cap!" Tony crows.

"You actually do make the most sense as a logical choice," Bruce says. "All the test results in your file from the forties through recently indicate your levels of the organic agents in question to be higher than average—"

I cast a defiant look around the room, taking in the stricken expressions and glowing pink cheeks, deliberately avoiding Tony's Cheshire cat grin. "I love how nobody's even taking Bucky's feelings into account here," I snap. "Buck, what are you thinking?"

Looking dazed, Bucky blinks a few times, then reaches up to clutch my free hand. "I want it to be you," he mumbles. "Only you. Okay?"

Suddenly weak-kneed and shaky, I focus all of my energy on remaining on my feet as I meet Bucky's eyes and nod. "Okay. Absolutely." I look back at Bruce, whose sympathetic expression does nothing to allay my nervousness. "When and where are we doing this?"

"Oh, definitely in the lab," Tony laughs, "so we can get it on video for science." Pepper glares at him, and he yelps as she deals him a hard pinch on the side.

"I think a casual environment would be more conducive to the, ah, production of the specimen in question." I honestly thought Bruce was as red as he could get, but he proves me wrong. "I think giving you initial instructions is all the intervention you'll need from us; you can choose wherever's comfortable to... render the treatment."

"Fine." Without looking at anyone, I take Bucky's hand and guide him into the hallway leading to everyone's individual quarters, beckoning for Bruce to follow. When Tony takes a step toward us, I bare my teeth and snarl at him, and he halts with a shrug. "Okay, Bruce. Let us know what has to happen."

"Well." He clears his throat. "Since injection isn't an option without significant time spent extracting the necessary elements from the, uh, bodily fluid, the mucous membranes of the mouth, stomach, and lower digestive tract are going to facilitate the fastest absorption... Ah. Well. The objective is to deliver as much seminal fluid as possible, either sublingually, orally, or rectally." He's so red now he's nearly purple. "If you're able to accomplish this more than once, it would increase the absorption ratio and possibly speed recovery."

"So we have to have a bunch of sex," Bucky says, and Bruce nods with an apologetic shrug. Bucky looks at me as we walk and grins. "Okay. It's gotta be nicer than most of the medical procedures I've had."

"I'll say," I agree, and we both laugh, although it sounds a bit hysterical. "Bruce, what do we do when we're done?"

"Stay still and try to, um... allow the fluid to absorb. Internally."

"Swallow; don't spit. Got it," Bucky says with a salute, and I swear Bruce is a half second away from fainting from embarrassment. "Okay, doc. We're off. Anything else we should know?"

Outside the door to Bucky's room, Bruce digs in his shirt pocket and hands over a tube whose label reads _Backslide_ , and below that, _Anal Formula_. "Use lots of lubrication," he says, appearing ready to withdraw inside his own shirt collar like a turtle into its shell. "And good luck."

**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're quiet for a little while, and then he says, so softly I almost miss it, "I wish it didn't have to be like this."
> 
> "Well, yeah… it'd be nice if there was just a pill you could take, or something."
> 
> "No, I don't mean that." Bucky sighs. "I'm not gonna lie; I wish you were doing this 'cause you wanted to, not 'cause you have to."
> 
> "I—" I swallow hard. This is it. "I do want to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a little [chapter art](http://imgur.com/EPQHgg6) for the last chapter.

"Well," I say, clinging to Bucky's hand as he lets us into his room and locks the door behind us.

"Well." Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, still holding my hand, and I follow suit. We're quiet for a little while, and then he says, so softly I almost miss it, "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

"Well, yeah… it'd be nice if there was just a pill you could take, or something."

"No, I don't mean that." Bucky sighs. "I'm not gonna lie; I wish you were doing this 'cause you wanted to, not 'cause you have to."

"I—" I swallow hard. _This is it._ "I do want to."

"I appreciate that you want to help me, Stevie, but—"

"No. I mean I _want_ to," I say, turning to him and lacing our fingers together. "I've always wanted to."

"Me, too." _Could it be?_ We grin stupidly at each other until Bucky continues, "So does this mean you'll consider kissing me, too?"

"I wouldn't want to do this _without_ kissing you."

"Thank God." Bucky leans in as if he's been waiting for my permission and brushes my lips with his, sliding his hands behind my neck as he does. What begins as an innocent peck deepens into a slow, thorough, passionate, exploratory kiss, from which we ultimately separate, breathing heavily.

"Oh. Wow." I blink, shaking my head to clear it.

"Yeah." Bucky's smile is soft, even dreamy. "That was perfect."

My reply is immediate: " _You're_ perfect."

Bucky laughs. "You, of all people, know how _not_ true that is."

"Yeah. That's why I said it. I know every single one of your flaws, and I still love you, you jerk." I take his hand again and move to the head of the bed, where he lies back on the pillows and tugs me gently on top of him.

"I love you, too," he murmurs. "And even if we're doing this for medical reasons, I _really_ fucking want you."

"Buck," I whisper, dipping down to lose myself in the next kiss, which melts into another and then another, and by the time we pause for breath again, we're both stripped bare and entwined atop the bedclothes.

"I don't know where to start," I confess, stroking through the strands of long, dark hair that spread out over the pillow beneath Bucky's head.

He grins the same devilish grin I fell in love with when I was thirteen. "I do." He rolls me onto my back, leaning in to leave a wet kiss at the base of my throat. I hold my breath as he kisses a line down the center of my chest, letting all my air out in a rush when he nibbles lightly at the faint trail of hair below my bellybutton.

"Are you – _oh._ " My eyes roll back in my head when he makes his intentions more than clear by mouthing wetly down the length of my stiff cock before taking it into his hand, tracing with his thumb the swollen vein on the underside.

"Just as pretty as I always pictured it," Bucky says with a smirk, giving me a couple of hesitant strokes, testing the slide of the foreskin.

Any possible intelligent response has long abandoned my brain. "Yeah, huh?"

"Mm-hmm." Bucky draws his tongue up my length, his eyes slipping closed as his lips close around the sensitive head.

"Oh, _shit_ ," I gasp, my head falling back onto the pillow as my hand gropes for and finds his head. The braids Wanda made are still in place.

Bucky doesn't respond except for a low groan that I feel more so than hear with my dick stuffing his mouth, and the vibration nearly sends me through the roof. I'm not a _total_ virgin, although my list of sexual conquests is markedly short, but nothing in my life thus far has ever felt as good as what Bucky is doing down there. The lush heat of his mouth, the tight slide of his lips – it's all secondary to the fact that it's _Bucky_ , and it's that thought that brings me rapidly to the edge.

"Buck, I'm gonna—"

Bucky reaches for my free hand with his and clasps my fingers, and that's it for me; fighting not to thrust upward for fear of choking him, I tense all over and let go with a guttural groan through clenched teeth, spilling hot and hard into Bucky's mouth. He sucks me through it, slowing by degrees as I come down from the cloud where he launched me with his brilliant mouth and wicked tongue, and when I open my eyes, he smirks a little as he makes sure I'm watching before he swallows.

"Jesus Christ." I reach for him, pulling him onto my chest. He still wears his closed-mouth smirk. "Was it – I dunno, horrible?"

He shakes his head, his eyes alight, but doesn't answer.

"Buck, what—"

He holds up one finger, opening his mouth and lifting his tongue, and I sputter out startled laughter when I see he hasn't quite swallowed _all_ of what I deposited.

"Well, Bruce _did_ say you could do it sublingually." I palm his cheek and kiss him between the eyes.

Swallowing, Bucky laughs, taking my wrists in his hands and pinning them to the pillow on either side of my head. "So that's two methods down," he says in a husky, unbearably sexy voice as he nuzzles into my hair, nosing along my cheekbone. "Wanna try the last one?"

_Damn_ , did I want to try the last one!

"Dumb question." I sigh as he sucks kisses down the side of my neck, latching on with delicious suction at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

"Yeah?" That _voice_ ; good lord! "You want to fuck me, Stevie?"

I groan as he grinds against me. " _Yes!_ Yes, yes. Yeah, I wanna fuck you."

"Yeah? You wanna fill me up with that great big dick?"

Hyperventilation doesn't seem far off; there's not enough oxygen in the room to support my heaving breaths. Bucky helps me focus by pressing his mouth to mine, stroking through my sweat-dampened hair with his metal fingertips. "It's okay," he murmurs, the words ghosting over my lips. I slide my hands down his back, letting the warmth of his skin ground me.

"I love you, Buck."

Bucky smiles down at me, his eyes so warm and tender my heart nearly stalls. "I love you, too, you big lug. I'll show you how much in a minute. Is it okay, if I... y'know." He motions with his head toward the bathroom door. "I just need a couple minutes to get ready. Okay?"

I nod. "But you'll need somebody with you."

He makes a face. "Yeah. I almost forgot. _Fuck_ , this whole thing is awkward."

"Yeah." I pause, thinking, before inspiration hits me. " _Vision!_ "

"What about him?"

"Hold on." I roll over, nearly dumping Bucky off but for my arm around his waist, and snatch my phone off the nightstand, tapping out a quick message with the thumb of my free hand. Only moments after I send it, a response blinks onto the screen:

_Of course, Captain._

I take Bucky's hand and pull him to his feet. "C'mon."

"Steve—"

Flipping on the bathroom light, I usher him into the room, grinning at the realization that dawns on his face when he sees Vision's arm extending through the wall. "I'll have to tell Wanda that Vis being able to pass through walls isn't completely useless," I say, kissing Bucky's cheek. "Hang onto him and do what you gotta do. I'll be ready whenever you are."

I release Bucky only when he has a firm grip on Vision's hand, and Bucky gives me an absurdly shy smile as I leave the room and close the door behind me. My heart hammers in my chest as I pull back the rumpled covers on the bed and sit with my back against the headboard, staring at my phone as I try to formulate a search term that won't land me on some kind of government list. The best I can do is _first time gay sex position_ , and the first page of search results immediately has me blushing as hard as Bruce was when he left us at the door. I had a pretty good idea of what this would entail, but now that the reality of it stares me in the face, I'm more than a little terrified.

_But he trusts you,_ my mind whispers, _and he needs you. You can't let him down._

I know this is true, so I click the first link and start reading. _Oh, good… full color instructive photos, even._

While I read and absorb as much information as I can, I hear Bucky moving around in the bathroom, opening and closing doors and drawers, turning on the shower after a while. Idly, I wonder if he's clutching Vision's hand or if Vision is just sort of hanging onto Bucky's shoulder through the wall. The image sparks the creative part of my brain, and I file it away to sketch later while I pore over article after anecdote after bullet-pointed list. By the time I've gathered enough hypothetical knowledge to – I hope – make the experience as comfortable and painless for Bucky as physically possible, I realize the shower is no longer running.

"Hey, Steve?"

I shoot upright at the sound of Bucky's voice, dropping my phone like a hot potato onto the bed and scuttling across the room to the bathroom door, uncomfortably aware that a naked, partially aroused man scuttling anywhere should probably be discouraged, if not illegal. "You okay?" I call through the door, and he cracks it open, barely reaching the doorknob from the center of the room to ensure his connection with Vision isn't broken.

Bucky's shoulders and chest glisten with moisture that drips down his unreasonably chiseled abdomen and soaks into the towel he has wrapped around his waist. His hair is towel-dried and tousled, the braids removed, giving him an unkempt, wildly sexy look that makes me want to fall to my knees and—

"What?" Bucky asks with a nervous little smile, the pink of his cheeks deepening as I step into the room and pause by the door, nearly twitching with the urge to cover myself somehow; he removes any doubt I might have on that front when he rakes his hungry gaze from my head to my toes and back up again, licking his lips when he meets my eyes.

"You're just so," I begin, letting out a shaky breath as I approach him, resting my palm along the side of his face and leaning in to kiss him. He wraps both arms around me almost instantly, and from the corner of my eye, I see Vision's arm withdraw from the room in the eerie way I have yet to get used to. My non-human friend's propensity for navigating effortlessly through solid objects is the last thing on my mind, however, when Bucky pulls back just enough to whisper into my ear:

"I'm ready."

**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be a three chapter piece, but the porn always tends to get away from me. How unfortunate. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I could spend all day in this bed with you."
> 
> "That sounds amazing, and I will never argue with you about that," Bucky says with a smirk, his hair tickling my chest, "but you aren't gonna make me wait long, are you?"
> 
> "Wait long for what?"
> 
> Bucky gives me a look that I immediately recognize as his are you fucking kidding me? look, and I grin, pulling him on top of me, chest to chest. "You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long, loooong wait between chapters, guys. To say life has been challenging lately is an understatement. I'm glad I finally, FINALLY wrapped this baby up!

Bucky follows, silent, as I lead him from the bathroom to the bedroom, pausing beside the bed to slide my arms around him and place a gentle kiss on his mouth.

"Are you _sure_ about this?" I murmur, stroking his back with my fingertips, and he favors me with a smile and a slow blink as he reaches between us and tugs open his towel, letting it drop to the floor around our feet. He presses his body tight against me, gripping my ass with both hands and squeezing, which sends a jolt of delicious heat straight to my pelvis.

"I've been sure about this since I was about fifteen," he says, his eyes locked on mine. I could stare into them for hours; I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they held the secrets to the universe in their depths. "It's about goddamn time I got you into bed, Rogers."

I laugh and pull him onto the bed with me, tumbling on top of him and lacing our fingers together above his head. "I'll say it's about time." I dip down to leave a trail of wet kisses up his neck before nipping lightly at the hinge of his jaw. He's freshly shaven, his skin smooth and still damp, and he smells like heaven. "I've spent way too many years dreamin' about doing things with you that I didn't even know about."

"Oh, yeah?" Bucky wraps his long, muscular legs around my hips. "What do you know about now?"

Kissing the tip of his nose, I smile down at him, my heart racing with anticipation and swollen to bursting with love for this man, the only person alive who _really_ knows me, the only one I've ever wanted so much it threatened to split me in two, the only one whose loss nearly killed me more than once. "I know I wanna make you feel good," I murmur, kissing my way along his jaw to his ear. "And I know I want this to be special for you."

"Hey." Bucky cups my face with both hands, pinning me with his earnest stare. "It already is, sugar."

No force on earth could keep me from kissing him at that exact second, so that's what I do, kissing him slow and deep and hot until we're forced to break to inhale. "Fuck," I breathe, and he laughs.

"My thoughts exactly." Bucky tips me off him, turning on his side to adhere himself to me the way I've very much grown to love over the past couple days. The only difference is that now he's rubbing against me with purpose, and his dick is rock hard and positively begging for attention.

"I could spend all day in this bed with you."

"That sounds amazing, and I will _never_ argue with you about that," Bucky says with a smirk, his hair tickling my chest, "but you aren't gonna make me wait long, are you?"

"Wait long for what?"

Bucky gives me a look that I immediately recognize as his _are you fucking kidding me?_ look, and I grin, pulling him on top of me, chest to chest. "You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"

With a pretty, full-body tremor, Bucky nods, and I've never wanted him more.

"How do you want it?"

Bucky looks blank, so I give him a quick kiss.

"It's okay," I murmur. "I got you. Lie down."

"Okay." Bucky stretches out on the bed next to me on his back, watching me intently as I grab the tube Bruce gave us off the nightstand, seat myself between Bucky's legs, and lean over to kiss his beautifully defined tummy. He reaches down and runs his metal fingers through my hair, his lips curving into a smile as I move downward, ghosting my lips over the silken skin covering solid muscle. He squirms a little when I trail my tongue down the sharp cut of his v-line, and he whimpers, his hand tightening in my hair, when I move my attention to his dick, lying stiff and thick against his lower belly.

"Steve," he whispers as I place a tentative kiss at the base of his cock, and it twitches when I hum in response. Emboldened, I wrap my fingers around it, reveling in the weight and heat and thickness of it in my hand as I lift it to lap delicately at the head. His sigh encourages me to take him into my mouth, letting my tongue swirl around the smooth, glossy tip as my lips move partway down his shaft. I've never felt anything like this; the slide of the impossibly soft skin over the rigid flesh beneath is fascinating, and Bucky's heavy breaths are intoxicating. When I take him in further, he lets out a soft moan that causes my own cock to throb, and I suddenly understand that my newfound mission in life is to draw sounds like that out of Bucky as often as humanly possible.

When I have a goal, I'm like a pit bull with its jaws locked. In this case, my goal has my jaw aching a little after a while, but the melody of Bucky's groans and sighs and grunts is worth the effort. I'm addicted to the slide of his cock against my tongue and between my lips, and I start to believe I could keep at it for eternity as long as Bucky kept trembling and making those gorgeous sounds.

"You like that, baby?" I lick and kiss my way up his length, letting the tip rest against my lips as I pause to gaze up at him. A sweet, sticky bead of pre-come trickles onto my lip, and I lap it off, both of us moaning simultaneously at that.

"God, _fuck_ , babydoll." Bucky looks utterly wrecked, and a rush of pride swoops through my veins. _I_ did this to him.

"I'm planning on it," I reply with a smirk. "But we have to get you ready first, okay?"

Bucky rises on his elbows. "I like the sound of that. What do you need me to do?"

"Oh, you just lie back and enjoy it. I know I'm gonna."

Tucking an arm beneath his head, Bucky watches me down the length of his torso as I stretch out on my belly and douse my fingers with the surprisingly slick substance from the tube, spreading it around and testing its texture. It is extraordinarily slippery, easing at least some of my anxiety about hurting Bucky. In a gesture as comforting as it is erotic, I press a soft kiss against his inner thigh and turn my attention to my arousing task. Bucky draws a sharp breath when I use the pads of my fingers to stroke over his entrance, spreading the lubricant while helping him grow accustomed to my touch. 

 

"Okay?" I murmur, and he nods quickly, his tongue darting out to wet his parted lips. His color is high, his eyes alight with need that urges me on. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Never stop," Bucky whispers, and I flush with more emotions than I can name. The trust in his eyes is unmistakable, and they slip closed, his forehead wrinkling delicately, at the careful introduction of my finger into his mind-blowing heat.

"Is that okay?" I ask, anxious, and he nods, his damp hair sliding against the pillows beneath his head. 

"Mm-hmm... feels good." He lets out a shuddering breath as I press deeper, his body relaxing until he all but melts into the mattress. "Try another one."

"Yeah? Already?"

He sighs in response, his stiff cock twitching, which gives me an idea I can't resist. As I add a second finger alongside the first – fuck, is he tight! – I mouth wetly up his shaft, relishing his heated moan.

" _Yeah_ , sugar. That's _amazing_. I want you, Steve..."

"You got me," I mumble before sucking him down even deeper than before, managing to take him all the way to the back of my throat before pulling back.

Bucky sobs, his metal hand fluttering up to nest in my hair. "Please, _please_ fuck me, babydoll..."

"I don't know if you're ready for that."

The look he gives me steals my breath. "I'm ready for you."

"Okay," I choke out, willing my hands to stop shaking. "Okay. I, um. Let me just..."

He watches me with an indulgent smile on his lips and his eyes heavy-lidded as I fumble for the tube I'd dropped on the bed. I get the lid off and squeeze a generous dollop of the clear gel onto the tip of my cock, spreading the lube up and down my length. Casting my eyes up to his face, I manage a smile in return as I crawl up the bed and settle in beside him, guiding him with a hand on his hip to turn on his side before pressing myself to his back and brushing his hair aside to kiss the nape of his neck.

"Is like this okay?" I whisper, sliding my hand between his thickly muscled thighs and hoisting his leg into the air.

" _Yes_ ," he hisses, squirming impatiently.

"Shh. Hold this leg." When he complies, I arrange my body into position, gripping my dick and sweeping the tip over his hole, making him whimper. "I'm gonna try and push it in _really_ careful, but if it hurts, tell me to stop. I mean it."

"Mmm." Bucky's head drops bonelessly to rest on the arm beneath him. "Yeah."

"Ready?"

"Steve!" Bucky exclaims, grinning when he turns his head as far as he can to see me. " _Do it_ already!"

I lean over and kiss his cheek, the only part of his face I can reach. "Okay, you impatient little brat. Stop me if it's too much."

He doesn't respond except for a soft gasp when the tip of my cock bumps against his entrance with intent. Guiding myself with one hand, I nudge forward until the head slips inside, and it's my turn to gasp at the sensation of his almost unbearably tight muscle gripping me like a vise. There's no _way_ this isn't hurting him, only—

Bucky hums, a shiver rippling through his entire body, his back arching subtly against my chest. "Feels good. More."

My voice doesn't even sound like my own, coming out strangled and high-pitched. "Yeah?" When he nods, I press deeper, a millimeter at a time, moving as slowly as I possibly can.

With a growl, Bucky turns his head again, and I meet his pleading eyes over his shoulder. "C'mon, sugar," he begs. "You can stop being so careful. I'm good; I promise.  _Please_?"

It's impossible to say no to those crystalline puppy-dog eyes, and it's becoming more and more difficult for me to control my body's innate urge to thrust, so I give up and slide the rest of the way inside him. We both groan loudly when my hips meet his ass, and I wrap my hand around his leg as much to ground myself as to keep him in the optimal position. "Oh my _god_ ," I grit out, resting my head against the back of his shoulder.

Bucky's nearly panting as he reaches down to clutch the back of my hand where it grips his thigh. "You feel _so good,_ so _big_ , fuck, _yes_ , baby—"

Reassured I'm not hurting him, I begin a slow, rolling motion of my hips, pumping, smooth and gentle, in and out of his tight heat, and he throws his head back with a broken moan. "You like that?" I growl against his skin, and he nods again, a low whine building in his throat.

"God, _Steve_ —" Bucky's voice dissolves into incoherent groans and whimpers, his upper body loosening and going nearly limp. I turn his shoulders enough to press both shoulder blades against the bed and dip down to deliver a long, hot kiss to his panting mouth. He reaches around and clutches my back, metal fingers gripping but not breaking the skin – even mid-coitus, he has the presence of mind not to hurt me – his groans growing shorter and louder against my lips as I continue rocking into him with faster, harder strokes. He makes an urgent sound, and I pull back, flushing from head to toe at the look on his face: hot, needy, blissful, wanting, lustful, and adoring all at once. "I'm," he chokes out.

A bead of sweat rolls down the tip of my nose and splashes on his throat. "Yeah?"

" _Fuck_ , I'm coming, don't stop—"

I watch in awe as he detonates beneath me, tremors wracking his body, nearly wailing as his orgasm rips through him; he's so tight, so gorgeous, so fucking _hot_ that I can't help following right behind him, emptying inside him with a shudder and a tortured groan. I barely feel Bucky wrap his other arm around me and pull me gingerly to him, leaving us connected at the hip, and I release my iron grip on his thigh.

After we catch our breath, I press my forehead against his, prying my eyes open to find him watching me with a sleepy smile. "You okay?" I murmur, reaching up to run my fingers through his still-damp hair.

"I've never been better, and I'm not just saying that. Steve," Bucky says, his face achingly earnest, "I don't ever want to wake up another morning in my life without you next to me." 

If my heart swells any further, it will explode from my chest like so much bloody shrapnel. "Buck," I whisper. "Me, too."

Bucky settles on his side with his back against my chest, pulling my arm around his ribs. I inch my lower body backward with the intent of withdrawing from him, but he grabs my hip and shakes his head. "Bruce said to stay still and let it absorb," he mumbles. "Better stay there for a while."

I kiss the back of his head, breathing in the clean smell of his hair. "There's nowhere I'd rather be."

**

We nap for a while, allowing both our minds and our bodies to rest after the overwhelming stimuli we've endured today. I rouse from my light sleep when I become aware of Bucky's not-so-subtle wiggling against my pelvis. "What're you doing?"

"Coercing you into going again." Bucky cranes his neck to peer backward at me. "And I think it's working."

I am, indeed, growing hard again, without ever withdrawing from his body after the last round. "Oh, it's working, all right."

"Round two. Ding-ding!"

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

"Punk." I don't have to see his eye-roll; I hear it. "Fuck me, goddammit!"

I laugh, rolling him onto his stomach, and gladly obey.

**

"No, no – you can't stir eggs like that, or they'll be all rubbery. Lemme do it."

"Go ahead, if you think you're such a great chef. Jerk." I switch places with Bucky, wrapping my arms around his waist and watching over his shoulder as he coaxes the eggs into puffy yellow clouds. I'll never admit it, but he's always had more panache in the kitchen than I have.

"There, see? My hands aren't good for just one thing."

I muffle my laughter against his shoulder. When I look up, Tony has appeared beside us, leaning casually against the counter, barefoot in his designer jeans and hundred-dollar button-down shirt and gnawing on a fat, red apple. He _would_ be the only one besides us to get up this early.

"Didn't work, huh?" He shakes his head, a frown creasing his well-moisturized forehead. "Are you sure you did it right? I mean you especially, Cap. The original hundred-year-old virgin."

"I am ninety-nine, thank you very much."

Bucky laughs, making no move to separate from me. My arms fit perfectly around his waist, I'm pleased to note. "Well, _I'm_ a hundred, and believe me, Steve ain't no virgin after yesterday—"

I snort, indignant. "I wasn't a—"

"Settle down, seniors," Tony says with a smirk. "I guess it's back to the drawing board for me and Bruce today. We were sure—"

"Oh, it worked," Bucky says, turning in my arms and giving me a starry-eyed smile. I could get used to this.

"What?" Tony cocks his head in surprise. "Then why are you—"

"We're not doing this 'cause we have to," Bucky scoffs. 

I shake my head. "We're doing it 'cause we _want_ to."

Lacing his fingers behind my neck, Bucky pulls me in, grinning, for a kiss. Tony's resultant squawk probably wakes everyone in the building:

"Well, it's about fucking time!"

**


End file.
